


Denied

by StarTravel



Series: Stages [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Complicated Emotions, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Introspection, POV Elim Garak, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak muses on what he can and cannot give to Julian Bashir.





	Denied

Sometimes Garak feels almost guilty about Julian. Not over fucking him, of course. That’s harmless fun and Garak’s fairly confident he could slowly put a stop to that without Julian even noticing. The lingering, sensual gazes would shorten, the touches would grow less pointed, the inquiries about who Julian was spending his nights with less joking and more an honest push toward one of those terribly dull Federation girls he flirts with.

But no, Garak doesn’t feel bad about that. Julian enjoys a rough hand and giving one in turn, takes delight in being filled to the brim over and over again until his hips shake uncontrollably and his voice comes out in silent screams. And Julian enjoys the way he can pull low moans and desperate hisses from Garak with just his mouth and his hands, though he’s perfectly happy to use everything else at his disposal as well.

And in turn, Garak enjoys the way Julian falls apart piece by piece in front of him, the flutter of eyelashes and the way he almost looks pained by how much pleasure he’s in, the sweet cries for more. And he certainly loves the way Julian fucks him, first all careful control and gentle murmurs that give away to desperation and just a hint of roughness.

If their relationship were merely that, Garak would have no regrets.

But Garak is a vicious man and a selfish one when it comes to things outside of Cardassia, and he’s done something utterly cruel, even for him. He’s let Julian think there could be something _more_ here.

Every time he playfully argues with Julian, all teasing smiles and casual touches to the shoulder, every time he shares a new book or story with him, each meal they share with an alarming frequency.

When it’d been mere curiosity, the arrogant enthusiasm of a young man who thought he could unravel a spy, it hadn’t been an issue. But then. Then came the wire and the aftermath, where Julian risked his life for him, risked meeting _Tain_ for him.

It changes the stakes in what Julian thinks their relationship is in a way Garak can’t allow and can’t return.

Garak wants to, wishes desperately he could give Julian everything he wants. He can almost see their life together on this ship, an oasis of shared meals and lazy afternoons in bed arguing about plays in this hell he’s been exiled to. He can imagine waking up to those bright eyes, affectionate and curious and far too aware at all times to be strictly human.

 Garak can imagine and sometimes he almost lets himself have it, almost asks Julian to stay in his quarters overnight.  Their relationship would be a comfort for him, if nothing else.

 But Julian deserves to be more than comfort. Julian adores him, might even be able to love him someday, when he matures a little. And those aren’t affections Garak can return.

 Julian is … he is not someone Garak can love. Really, Garak imagines Julian’s not someone anyone can love. For all his compassion and brilliance, for all that slender golden beauty, there’s something lacking about Julian. Too much awkwardness and moral rigidity, too arrogant  and too eager at the same time. Everything about him is somehow at once aloof and desperate, and it’s a combination that almost ruins how delightful he is in bed. Almost.

Garak suspects it has something to do with his time on Adigeon Prime (the records were painfully easy to find and destroy, and he wonders how someone as reckless as the elder Bashir even managed to make contacts there). Maybe the procedure that made Julian so brilliant and quick also broke something in him, made him less lovable, less human.

 Or maybe Julian did that to himself, the guilt of a life stolen and shame of not being enough making him downplay and erase all the good parts of him until they couldn’t overcome the mask he lives in. Maybe they’re even still there underneath, Julian desperately wanting someone to like what he’s willing to show the world enough to find everything he’s forgotten how to show.

 But it doesn’t matter. Garak isn’t, can’t be that person.

 So when Julian stops by his room unannounced, smile too wide and gaze bright with anticipation, Garak should send him away.

 “My dear doctor, what a _nice_ surprise.” Is what he says instead, sliding his arm over Julian’s shoulders like it belongs there.

 “I’m sorry,  I know this isn’t our scheduled time, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Gul Tenara’s series of poems about Trylat and Xoutos. I think I finally understand what she was trying to say about how their loyalty to each other mirrors their loyalty to the state.”

Julian speaks so fast that the words are practically tripping over each other, hands flying through the air until he suddenly pulls them stiffly to his side. He looks away, gaze self-conscious for a moment in a way that makes Garak feel strangely warm.

 “Somehow I very much doubt that.” Garak’s keeps his voice airy and light even as he feels something constrict in his chest. Julian coming here for sex unannounced is bad enough. Him coming here for conversation over dinner is a far worse breach of their unspoken agreement.

 Garak supposes It was wrong of him to assume Julian was aware there even was such an agreement in the first place. Garak makes a tutting sound in the back of his throat and slides his hand up along Julian’s neck, moving swiftly over fading bite marks until Julian shivers. “Garak, not that I don’t like this, but -“

 “How about this, dear. You tell me all of your incorrect literary theories while sucking me off and we’ll see if I can correctly dismiss whatever you’re humming around me.” Garak murmurs this into the shell of Julian’s ear, hands sliding down to grip those slim hips just hard enough to bruise.

 It’s mere seconds before he feels slender hands on his belt, Julian sliding down to his knees without ever breaking eye contact. “Fine, but then you have to read a different Federation poem for each incorrect guess.”

 “I’m rarely ever wrong when it comes to you, my dear.” Garak says as he pushes his own pants down, taking a few steps back so he can sit on the edge of his couch. Julian crawls towards him, gaze hooded and hands sliding up to run his nails along each scale of Garak’s inner thighs. He looks pleased with himself when Garak lets out a low moan, one hand coming down to grasp Julian’s hair.

 Julian mouths the edge of his sheath with a well-practiced tongue, making tiny patterns along the opening as his hands work on the edges. Garak closes his eyes and drives away any fairy tales of discovering what lies underneath all of Julian’s carefully curated masks, of seeing if there was someone lovable beneath all that Federation arrogance and desperation.

 Elim Garak is not someone who can love Julian Bashir. That’s all there is to it and he will not be so cruel as to pretend otherwise. Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions and comments are loved!! :D


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